All Unsent Messages

I ran when I should have listened, and I wish I had the courage to press send. I’ll carry the lesson, not the weight.

This is me letting you go, and I am learning to carry this gently. I hope you keep the light you found. You don’t have to answer.

I’m sorry for leaving a knot in you, and I am learning to carry this gently. I will keep the soft parts of us. I’ll keep making tea for one.

Thank you for making room for me, and I keep asking the moon for advice. If you ever need me, I’ll understand if you don’t call.

I’m choosing peace over almost, and I am learning to carry this gently. I’ll carry the lesson, not the weight. This is enough.

I am stepping out of our echo, and it feels like weather inside me. Maybe in another life, we make it. I’m learning to be gentle.

I am washing your scent from the room, and it startles me that you won’t answer. I’ll let the tide take the rest. I won’t rewrite this again.

I won’t wait at the same station, and I am learning to carry this gently. I’ll walk forward, softer than before. You don’t have to answer.

I check your name at 2 a.m., and it feels like weather inside me. I’m learning to miss you with kindness. I mean this kindly.

I talk to your shadow sometimes, and I leave the porch light on anyway. I’ll remember you on quiet Sundays. I’m learning to be gentle.